


Supressing the Return

by Spl1640



Category: MorMor - Fandom, Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1980855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spl1640/pseuds/Spl1640
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian Moran doesn't know what's going on</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supressing the Return

         Seven weeks. That's how long it took for Sebastian Moran to accept that his boss had shot himself in the head. A year and a half. The time it took for Moran to realize James really was dead. He wasn't coming back. No more calls in the middle of the night ordering him to "get out of bed, you've got killing to do," nine times out of ten saving him from his continuous nightmares. No more rare times, when he was sure his boss thought he wasn't looking, would he catch his Boss  _smile_. Not the crazed, power enforcing smile the world feared, no, the smile Moriarty saved for one person and one person only. Himself.

          Sebastian allowed himself one week to care. And when the seven days of chain smoking and takeout meals was over he got his shit back together. Returned to making money doing what he did best. Murder. 

 

*

 

          Moran breathes in a steady breath of air before holding it, finger gently pressing against the trigger. His crosshairs are lined an inch away from his target, taking the wind into consideration. He once overs the calculations in his head and pulls the trigger. 

          *BANG*

_Moriarty falls to the ground, pistol in hand._

          Sebastian releases his rifle and gasps, heart pounding as he calms himself down. Blinking a few times, he looks at the trees around him. Recently things have gotten worse. More nightmares, more flashbacks. He closes his eyes and breaths in effort not to shout in frustration. He had been getting so much better. Had even gone a whole two months to find he hadn't thought about Moriarty at all. He'd been conflicted on whether to feel grateful or ashamed. _"S_ _hame won,"_ he realizes, grasping his rifle back in his hands to look down the scope. The woman lays sprawled in her kitchen, the window broken, blood pooled around her head. Sebastian smiles and pulls out his phone to call his client. 

"It's done."

 

          

          It's on his way back from his most frequented bar, little after noon, when he hears it.  _Screaming, shouting, Sherlock. **Sherlock.**_ Someone was shouting  _Sherlock_  amongst the noise.His eyes narrow as he heads towards the commotion, picking up speed.  _"Sherlock? Sherlock's dead."_  His mind races and his ears strain to catch information as  he brushes through the crowds. 

          "He's back!?"

          "-alive!?"

          "But Sherlock-"

          "God help us all."

          And he  _sees_ it. It would be hard to miss, what with everybody pointing. It's on the neon signs and it's fucking  _James Moriarty._

 

_Did you miss me?_

 

          Sebastian's surroundings seem to bend and slow, his body freezes with his mind. 

     

           _Did you miss me?_

His feet move without permission.

 

           _Did you miss me?_

         

          The high pitched voice gets louder as more cars, phones, and speakers unintentionally blast it out. _"Stop it,"_ his mind whispers pathetically. He's pushing people over, not sure where he's going since his flat is the other way. " _Gotta go, gotta go."_  He breaks into a run, past shapes he doesn't identify as human or object. 

 

 _"Stop,"_ this time, he realizes,  _"stop it, Sebastian,"_ he's addressing himself. So he listens, slowing until he reaches a wall suitable to lean on. Like a fog lifting from around his head, his vision resharpens, pulling his mind with it. He blinks a few times, noticing his breathing is ragged and his throat burns. He tries swallowing to ease the pain and straightens up. 

 _"I ran five blocks? Why... oh."_ Whatever he had felt before he ran, punches him in the gut, without the help of adrenaline to ease the blow. He's threatened with tears, but he's too angry to cry, too happy to be angry, and too confused to be happy. All he knows is he  _feels_ and it  _hurts._

 

          He jumps, yelling to a cab as it rounds the corner. His legs feel like rubber and he has a sick feeling in his stomach as he enters, still struggling to even his breathing. 

          "You alright there?" The driver asks suspiciously.

          Sebastian jumps, "Um. I'm fine."

          "Then where we off to?"

 

          On the way back to his flat, he manages to even his breathing. His driver is paid and he's left staring at the building he lives in, scared to enter, though not sure whether the fear is that James _will_ be there or if he's afraid he _won't_ be there.  _"Guess it doesn't matter then."_ He takes tentative steps towards the door.  _"Jesus Sebastian. This is only the front fucking door."_ His thoughts temporarily reduce his fears and he opens the door, turns a few corners and stomps up the stairs with purpose. He stops again, this time only for a second before grabbing the knob of his apartment door and twisting. 

          *click*

          Sebastian's eyes narrow and he tries twisting again. 

          *click*

          A smile forces it's way across his face.  _"It's locked. I locked it when I left this morning."_ He lets himself sigh and takes out his key, unlocking the door. A part of him is disappointed, but the part made to reassure is talking louder. _"What if he_ had  _been here? What would you have even said."_ He opens and closes the door, tosses his keys on the couch, and heads towards the kitchen.

 

           "That was rude."

 

           Sebastian doesn't even jump. He freezes. His heart starts beating erratically again.  _"He... He's on the couch!?"_ _  
_

          "Next time, be a dear and look before you toss, won't you?"

 

          Sebastian hears the cushions move and he turns around. He's right there, very much alive. 

 

          "You... Locked the door?" He mumbles, not sure if he's just gone insane.

 

          Moriarty grimaces, looking disgustedly at the ceiling. "Don't be  _daft_ Moran. I wouldn't want anyone to break in." His expression melts into a curled smile. "Did. You. Miss me?" His arms raise with his voice.

 

          Sebastian can't breath. He starts to feel nauseous, dizzy, lightheaded, and he feels as though he's about to faint.  _"Don't you dare. Not in front of him, like this. He's expecting a reaction."_ It takes effort, but he manages to get the spinning to stop. And then he feels it. Like a armor coat is wrapping  around his body. And he finally understands what it feels like to be Moriarty himself. He feels  _nothing._

 

          "That does seem to be the question of the day, doesn't it?" His voice comes out low and un characteristically gravely. He thinks he sees a flicker of puzzlement cross Moriarty's face, but the lowering sun is casting shadows, obscuring his upper face. 

          His arms drop and he pouts "I was expecting a little more than that, Moran." 

 

          "Did you not once tell me to not to expect anything?" 

 

           "Well,  _you_ shouldn't expect anything, Moran.  _I_ should expect  _everything."_ Moriarty closes his eyes, looking all to pleased with himself. 

          "Some whiskey?" Sebastian walks calmly towards his liquor cabinet and grabs two glasses. He pours the glasses a third way full and places the bottle back, looking to Moriarty. He's already looking back at Sebastian, his face dark and stare intense, causing Sebastian to pause for a moment. Jim stands, pacing forward until he stands on the opposite side of the counter and grabs a glass, never breaking eye contact. Not even when he takes a gulp, his head tilting back. Sebastian grabs his own glass, eying Moriarty's neck before forcing himself to look away. Jim sets his empty glass on the counter with a smack of his lips. 

 

          "Well, Moran. I expect your new phone number." Jim utters in an annoyed tone. 

 

          Sebastian sets his drink down with a loud clap and clenches his jaw. "Sure thing,  _Boss_."

 

          Moriarty narrows his eyes, a dangerous look on his face. "Atta boy." He reaches across the table and pats Sebastian's cheek. Sebastian freezes. His touch disperses his shield and his feelings start to cause his stomach to twist. 

 

          "One second." He mutteres, swallowing and turning to grab a pen and paper from the desk to his left. His hands shake as he writes the number, quickly passing it to Moriarty's waiting hand. 

 

           "Thanks." He whispers, dragging out the s, a smirk on his face. Sebastian's still holding the paper, waiting for Moriarty to pull it away. He blinks and let's go of the paper, arm dropping by his side, heart rate picking up speed. 

 

          "Well, I think I'll take my leave now." Moriarty sticks  the paper in his pocket, licking his lips. "You better save that whiskey for next time." he walks towards the door, twisting the handle. 

 

          "James." Sebastian had not given the permission for his voice to speak as it did. 

 

          Moriarty turned his head, revealing his tameless smile. "Don't forget to lock the door, Seb." 

 

          And he was gone


End file.
